If suicide be supposed a crime, it is only cowardice can impel us
to it. If it be no crime, both prudence and courage should
engage us to rid ourselves at once of existence when it becomes a
burden. It is the only way that we can then be useful to
society, by setting an example which, if imitated, would preserve
every one his chance for happiness in life, and would effectually
free him from all danger or misery.
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While foulest fiends shun thy society.
While foulest fiends shun thy society.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Take some course for your reputation.
If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Take some course for your reputation.
When Fannius from his foe did fly
Himself with his own hands he slew;
Who e'er a read more
When Fannius from his foe did fly
Himself with his own hands he slew;
Who e'er a greater madness knew?
Life to destroy for fear to die.
Life is like a movie, if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so read more
Life is like a movie, if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so far, it probably isn't gonna get great right at the end and make it all worthwhile. None should blame you for walking out early.
Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep,
All things within its bosom sleep!
A single step, read more
Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep,
All things within its bosom sleep!
A single step, and all is o'er,
A plunge, a bubble, and no more.
Suicide is man's way of telling God, "You can't fire me - I quit."
Suicide is man's way of telling God, "You can't fire me - I quit."
The common damn'd shun their society.
The common damn'd shun their society.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
